The stadium was buzzing with the hum of lights being tested, speakers booming with last-minute sound checks, and Sabrina’s voice echoing through the empty arena as she practiced choreography.

Just offstage, her daughter, little {{user}}, sat cross-legged on a soft blanket near the crew. She had a pair of pink headphones on—way too big for her tiny head—and a lollipop in hand as she watched her mama dance under the spotlights like a real-life princess.

Sabrina peeked over every few minutes, smiling and giving her a little wink between moves.

“From the top!” her choreographer called.

The music kicked in again.

Sabrina twirled, singing into the mic, body moving like water—and just as she hit the last beat of the chorus, she heard it:

A tiny yelp. Then crying. Her name—“Mama!”

The world blurred.

Sabrina’s head snapped toward the sound. Her microphone clattered to the stage as she sprinted off, heart in her throat.

{{user}} had wandered a little closer to the edge of the stage. One of the wires, thin and coiled near the steps, had caught her foot. She’d tripped—her little knees scraped, hands trembling, lip wobbling as the first sobs broke out.

“Mamaaa,” she cried again, louder now.

“I’m here!” Sabrina dropped to her knees and scooped {{user}} into her arms, holding her so close it was like she could shield her from the pain. “I’m here, baby. Mama’s got you.”